“A dinner date? Didn’t I tell you not to speak to strangers? Who is this man?”

“Please don’t look so worried, Helen. His name’s Danny Carpenter. We were sitting at the same café this morning and we noticed each other.”

“You noticed each other? Eira, have you forgotten you’ve only recently left a relationship? You’re still getting over that snake, Steven, for goodness sake!”

“Yet you and Antonio seem keen to introduce me to friends of you both.”

“Precisely! Friends, not strangers. Whatever are you thinking of?”

“When I was at the pool, Danny introduced himself. We had lunch and I met his two children and the person who’s

helping look after them.”

“So that makes it OK to date someone you know nothing about except he seems like a nice dad? That usually means a man’s married. Are you out of your mind?”

“He’s no longer married. He lives in this apartment building and he was looking for some adult company.”

Helen mumbled something which Eira ignored.

“Anyway, Danny’s a lot older than me − probably ten years. His former wife is Kasha Delaney, the model.”

“Oh, well, that cheers me up a lot.” Helen folded her arms. “I know who Kasha Delaney is. Eira, don’t get involved. I read something about their marriage being on the rocks almost from the start. The man’s obviously a womaniser. Antonio met him once − something to do with the Mallorcan hoteliers’ association. We didn’t realise Danny Carpenter lived in this building, though.”

“He says he wants to talk to me. He’s from London like me and he knows I need a job. What if he has a position to offer?”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Stop sounding like my mum. If Danny says anything dodgy, I’ll pretend I have a bad headache and ask him to bring me back here or find me a taxi. Does that make you feel happier?” Helen sighed.

“I suppose so. Where’s he taking you?”

“I’ve no idea, Mum,” Eira teased. “Do you want to come down to the foyer with me at eight o’clock so you can ask him?” Helen looked ashamed.

“I’m only trying to look after you, Eira.

Your Spanish is practically non-existent. If you have to do a runner, you’ll be putting yourself in a very awkward position.”

“How about I mention that your boyfriend met him once, so Danny understands you and Antonio will be on his case if he tries any funny business? Which I doubt he will.” Helen raised both hands.

“All right, you’ve made your point. I imagine he’ll take you somewhere glamorous, even if this is supposed to be a business meeting.”

“No idea, but I should be back by eleven.

He doesn’t like late dining hours.”

“Take your key and I’ll leave the lamp on. What are you going to wear? Something with a high neckline, I hope.”

“You do sound like Mum! He said not to dress up. I’ll wear my yellow frock and strappy sandals.” Helen nodded.

“Yellow suits your colouring. OK.”

“If Antonio’s car’s still outside when I get home, I’ll let myself in and go to my room.”

Eira laughed. “No need to blush, Helen.”

****

Danny was standing in the foyer, reading a newspaper, when Eira stepped from the elevator. He wore an open-neck white shirt with grey trousers and black leather loafers – the kind of understated elegance she might expect from a man whose former wife earned a fortune from fashion.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He folded the paper and flung it on the nearest chair.

“I took your advice and didn’t dress up.”

“Well, some women have natural style.”

“You should know, Mr Carpenter.”

“Ouch! Beautiful and quick-witted,” he said. He glanced towards the desk. “Let’s go. The concierge is eavesdropping and I can do without hitting the gossip columns.” He opened the door for Eira.

“I thought we’d drive down the coast to my favourite fish restaurant, rather than go into Palma. Will that suit you?”

Tracey Steel

Having worked on a number of magazines over the years, Tracey has found her perfect place on The Friend as she’s obsessed with reading and never goes anywhere without a book! She reads all the PF stories with a mug of tea close by and usually a bit of strong cheese too!